The Boy Next Door, Hogwarts Style!
by xXKeepYourEnemiesCloseXx
Summary: Adapted from Meg Cabot's 'The Boy Next Door' book. Lily Evans is a recently single gossip columnist in the not-so-popular Hogwarts Journal. An accident leaves her next door neighbor for dead but brings about a really handsome stranger .So who exactly is this handsome neighbor? Has Lily found the love of her life—or a killer? AU, Marauder Era, No Magic JamesXLily SiriusXOC RemusXOC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is my newest story! Well technically adapted story. I actually stumbled upon my own copy of the boy next door two days ago and fell in love with it all over again. So I decided it would be fun to adapt it to a James/Lily Hogwarts style one.**

**This story is made in the format of E-mails.**

**Now there are characters I'm using (Spica Jenkins and Melissa Oxford) who are actually famous in other fanfics, and are originally the creation of RedHal. So I don't own any of them. Also, in this story, Sirius is James' brother. That was the only way to put it right, and think it was actually convincing seeing that both are really close and that James doesn't have a brother.**

**Please R&amp;R, if you didn't read The Boy next door by Meg Cabot, you could still enjoy this one, since it's heavily based on it. (And I recommend you to read it already if you didn't; it's amazing, the perfect mix of romance and humor.)**

**Updates will be daily since I have the whole story typed.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and The boy Next Door in any way, shape or form.**

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Human Resources

Subject: Tardiness

Dear Lily Evans,

This is an automated message from the Human Resources Division of the Hogwarts Journal, New York City's leading photo-newspaper. Please be aware that according to your supervisor, managing editor Albus Dumbledore, your workday here at the Journal begins promptly at 9AM, making you 68 minutes tardy today. This is your 37th tardy exceeding twenty minutes so far this year, Lily Evans. We in the Human Resources Division are not out to get tardy employees, as was mentioned in last week's unfairly worded employee newsletter. Tardiness is a serious and expensive issue facing employers all over America. Employees often make light of tardiness, but routine lateness can often be a symptom of a more serious issue, such as:

·alcoholism

·drug addiction

·gambling addiction

·abusive domestic partner

·sleep disorders

·clinical depression

and any number of other conditions. If you are suffering from any of the above, please do not hesitate to contact your Human Resources Representative, Dolores Umbridge. Your Human Resources Representative will be only too happy to enroll you in the Hogwarts Journal's Staff Assistance Program, where you will be paired with a mental health professional who will work to help you achieve your full potential. Lily Evans, we here at the Hogwarts Journal are a team. We win as a team, and lose as one, as well. Lily Evans, don't you want to be on a winning team? So please do your part to see that you arrive at work on time from now on!

Sincerely,

The Human Resources Division

The Hogwarts Journal

Please note that any future tardies may result in suspension or dismissal.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: You are in trouble

Lily, where were you? I saw that Dolores Umbridge from Human Resources skulking around your cubicle. I think you're in for another one of those tardy notices. What is this, your 50th? You better have a good excuse this time, because Albus was saying a little while ago

that gossip columnists are a dime a dozen, and that he could get Liz Smith over here in a second to replace you if he wanted to. I think he was joking. It was hard to tell because the Rosemerta wasn't here yet and he hadn't had his morning Butterbeer yet. By the way, did something happen last night between you and Severus? He's been playing Wagner in his cubicle again. You know how this bugs Albus. Did you two have another fight? Are we doing lunch later or what?

Milly :-)

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Severus Snape

Subject: Last night

Where are you, Lily? Are you going to be completely childish about this and not come in to the office until you're sure I've left for the day? Is that it? Can't we sit down and discuss this like adults?

Severus Snape

Senior Correspondent

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Cissa Black

Subject: Severus Snape

Lillian-

Don't get the wrong idea, darling, I WASN'T spying on you, but a girl would have to be BLIND not to have noticed how you brained Severus Snape with your bag last night at Pastis. You probably didn't even notice me, I was at the bar, and I looked around because

I thought I heard your name, of all things-weren't you supposed to be covering the Prada show?-and then BOOM! Altoids and Maybelline all over the place.

Darling, it was precious. You really have excellent aim, you know. But I highly doubt Kate Spade meant that adorable little clutch to be used as a projectile. I'm sure she'd have made the clasp stronger if she'd only known women were going to be backhanding the thing around like a volleyball. Seriously, darling, I just need to know: Is it all over between you and Severus? Because I never thought you were right for each other. I mean, the man was in the running for a Pulitzer, for God's sake! Although if you ask me, anyone could have written that story about that little Ethiopian boy. I found it perfectly maudlin. That part about his sister selling her body to provide him with rice...please. Too Dickensian. So you aren't going to be difficult about this, are you? Because I've got an invite to Steven's place in the Hamptons, and I was thinking of inviting Severus to mix Cosmos for me. But I won't if you're going to go Joan Collins on me.

P.S. You really should have called if you weren't going to come in today, darling. I think you're in trouble. I saw that little troll-like person (Dolores something?) from Human Resources sniffing around your desk earlier.

Cissa XXXOOO

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Albus

Subject: Where the hell were you?

Where the hell are you? You appear to be under the mistaken impression that comp days don't have to be pre-arranged with your employer. This is not exactly convincing me that you are columnist material. More like copy-edit material, Evans.

A

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Severus

Subject: Last night

This is really beneath you, Lily. I mean, for God's sake, Fluer and I were in a war zone together. Anti-aircraft fire was exploding all around us. We thought we'd be captured by rebel forces at any moment. Can't you understand that? It meant nothing to me, Lily, I swear it. My God, I should never have told you. I thought you could be mature about this. But to pull a disappearing act like this... Well, I'd never have expected it from a woman like you, that's all I have to say.

Severus Snape

Senior Correspondent

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa Oxford

Subject: This isn't funny

Girl, where are you? I'm really starting to get worried. Why haven't you called me, at the very least? I hope you didn't get hit by a bus, or something. But I suppose if you did, they'd call us. Assuming you had your press pass with you, that is. All right, I'm not really worried that you're dead. I'm really worried you're going to get fired, and I'm going to have to eat lunch with Cissa again. I was forced to go to Burger

Heaven with her since you're MIA, and it nearly killed me. The woman had a salad with no dressing. Do you get where I'm coming from here? NO DRESSING. And then she felt compelled to comment on every single thing I put in my mouth. Do you know how many grams of fat are in that fry? A good substitute for mayonnaise, you know, Milly, is low-fat yogurt. I'd like to tell her what she can do with her

low-fat yogurt. By the way, I think you should know that Snape's going around saying you're doing this because of whatever went down between the two of you the other night. If that doesn't get you in here, and pronto, I don't know what will.

Milly :-)

* * *

To: Albus Dumbledore

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Where the hell I was

Since it is apparently so important to you and Dolores Umbridge that your employees account fully for every moment they spend away from the office, I will provide you with a detailed summary of my whereabouts while I was unavoidably detained.

Ready? Got your Butterbeer? I hear that Rosmerta arrived safely and you got your drink just in time

Lily's Morning:

7:15-Alarm rings. Hit snooze button.

7:20-Alarm rings. Hit snooze button.

7:25-Alarm rings. Hit snooze button.

7:26-Wake to sound of neighbor's dog barking. Turn off alarm.

7:27-Stagger to bathroom. Perform morning ablutions.

7:55-Stagger to kitchen. Ingest nourishment in form of Nutrigrain bar and Tuesday night's take-out kung pao.

7:56-Neighbor's dog still barking.

7:57-Blow dry hair.

8:10-Check New York One for weather.

8:11-Neighbor's dog still barking.

8:12-Attempt to find something to wear from assorted clothes crammed into studio apartment's single, refrigerator-sized closet.

8:30-Give up. Pull on black rayon skirt, black rayon shirt, black sling-back flats.

8:35-Shoulder black bag. Look for keys.

8:40-Find keys in bag. Leave apartment.

8:41-Notice that Mrs. Pettigrew's copy of the Hogwarts Chronicle

(yes, Albus, my next door neighbor subscribes to our biggest rival: don't you agree with me now that we really ought to do something to draw more senior readers?) is still lying on the floor in front of her apartment door. She is normally up at six to walk her dog, and takes her paper in then.

8:42-Notice that Mrs. Pettigrew's dog is still barking. Knock on door to make sure everything is all right (some of us New Yorkers actually care about our neighbors, Albus. You wouldn't know that, of course, since stories about people who actually care for others in their community don't make for very good copy. Stories in the Journal, I've noticed, tend to gravitate towards neighbors who shoot at, not borrow cups of sugar from, one another).

8:45-After repeated knocks, Mrs. Pettigrew still does not come to door. Snuffles, her Great Dane, however, barks with renewed vigor.

8:46- Try handle to Mrs. Pettigrew's apartment door. It is, oddly enough, unlocked. Let myself inside.

8:47-Am greeted by Great Dane and two Siamese cats. No sign of Mrs. Pettigrew.

8:48-Find Mrs. Pettigrew facedown on living room carpet.

Okay, Albus? Get it, Albus? The woman was FACEDOWN on her living room carpet! What was I supposed to do, Albus? Huh? Call Dolores Umbridge down in Human Resources?

No, Albus. That life-saving class you made us all take paid off, see? I was able to tell that not only did Mrs. Pettigrew have a pulse, she was also breathing. So I called 911 and waited with her until the ambulance came. With the ambulance, Albus, came some cops. And guess what the cops said, Albus? They said it looked to them as if Mrs. Pettigrew had been struck. From behind, Albus. Some creep whacked that old lady on the back of the head! Can you believe it? Who would do that to an eighty-year-old woman? I don't know what this city is coming to, Albus, when little old ladies aren't even safe in their apartments. But I'm telling you, there's a story here-and I think I should be the one the write it.

Whadduya say, Albus?

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Albus

Subject: There's a story here

The only story here is the one I haven't heard. And that would be the story of why, just because your neighbor got whacked on the head, you couldn't come into the office, or even call anyone to let them know where they were. Now that is a story I'd really enjoy hearing.

A

* * *

To: Albus

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Where I was

Albus, you are so cold-hearted. I found my neighbor facedown in her living room, the victim of a brutal attack, and you think all I should have been concerned about was calling my employer to explain why I was going to be late? Well, I'm sorry; Albus, but the thought never even crossed my mind. I mean, Mrs. Pettigrew is my friend! I wanted to go with her in the ambulance, but there was the little problem of Snuffles. Or should I say the big problem of Snuffles. Snuffles is Mrs. Pettigrew's Great Dane, Albus. He weighs a hundred and twenty-nine pounds, Albus, which is more than me. And he needed to go out. Badly. So after I took him out, I fed him and watered him and did the

Same to Tweedle-Dum and Crookshanks, her Siamese cats (Tweedle-Dee sadly expired last year). While I was doing this, the cops were checking her door for signs of forced entry. But there were none, Albus. Do you know what this means? It means she probably knew her attacker, Albus. She probably let him in of her own volition! Even more bizarrely, there were two hundred and seventy-six dollars in cash in her purse that had been left untouched. Ditto her jewelry,

Albus. This was no robbery. Albus, why don't you believe there's a story here? Something is wrong. Very wrong. When I finally did get to the hospital, I was informed that Mrs. Pettigrew was in surgery. Doctors were frantically trying to relieve the pressure on

her brain from a giant blood clot that had formed beneath her skull! What was I supposed to do, Albus? Leave? The cops couldn't get in touch with anybody from her family. I'm all she has, Albus. Twelve hours. Twelve hours it took them. I had to go to her apartment to walk Snuffles twice before the surgery was even finished. And when it was, the doctors came out and told me it had only been partially successful. Mrs. Pettigrew is in a coma, Albus! She may never come out of it. And until she does, guess who's stuck taking care of Snuffles, Tweedle-Dum, and Crookshanks? Go on. Guess, Albus. I'm not trying to get sympathy here. I know. I should have called. But work was not necessarily foremost in my mind at the time, Albus. But listen, now that I'm finally here what would you think about letting me write up a little something about what happened? You know, we could hit it from the Be Careful

Who you let in to Your Apartment angle. The cops are still looking for Mrs. Pettigrew's closest relative-her nephew, I think-but when they find him, I could interview him. You know the woman really was a wonder. At eighty, she still goes to the gym three times a week, and last month, she flew to Helsinki for a performance of The Rings. Seriously. Her husband was Henry Pettigrew, of the Pettigrew twistie fortune. You know those twist-ties that go on garbage bags? She's worth six or seven million at least. Come on, Albus. Let me give it a try. You can't keep me doing gossip for Page Ten forever.

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Albus

Subject: You can't keep me doing gossip for Page Ten forever

Yes, I can.

And do you know why? Because I am the managing editor of this newspaper, and I can do whatever I want. Besides, Evans, we need you on Page Ten. Would you like to know why we need you on Page Ten? Because the fact is, Evans, you

Care. You care about Taylor Swift's dating status. You care that Harrison Ford's had a chemical peel. You care about Kim Kardashian's breasts, and whether or not they are silicone, and did they or did they not explode last month when she was vacationing with Kanye.

Admit it, Evans. You care. The other thing ain't a story, Evans. Old ladies get bonked on the head for their Social Security checks every day. It's called a telephone. Next time, call. Capice? Capice. Now get me the copy on the Prada opening.

A

* * *

To: Albus

From: Lily Evans

Subject: I do not care about Kim Kardashian's breasts...

...and you'll be sorry for not letting me run with the Pettigrew story, Albus. I'm telling you, there's something there. I can smell it.

And by the way, Harrison would NEVER get a chemical peel.

Lil

PS And who doesn't care about Taylor Swift's love life? Look how cute she is. Don't you want her to be happy, Albus?

PPS: and they didn't explode, they leaked. Because of the altitude, Albus. God, don't you even READ my column?

* * *

To: Human Resources

From: Lily Evans

Subject: My Tardiness

Dear Human Resources,

What can I say? You caught me. I guess my:

·alcoholism

·drug addiction

·gambling addiction

·abusive domestic partner

·sleep disorders

·clinical depression

And any number of other conditions has finally caused me to hit bottom. Please enroll me in the Staff Assistance Program right away! If you could hook me up with a shrink who looks like Brendan Frasier, and preferably conducts his therapy session with his shirt off,

I'd appreciate it. Because the primary condition from which I am suffering is that I'm a twenty-seven year- old woman living in New York City, and I cannot find a decent guy. Just one guy, who won't cheat on me, doesn't live with his mother, and isn't turning to the Arts section

of the Chronicle first thing Sunday morning, if you know what I mean. Is that asking so much? See if your Staff Assistance Program can handle that.

Lily Evans

Page Ten Columnist

NY Journal

* * *

To: Severus

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Can't we discuss this like adults?

There's nothing to discuss. Really, Severus, I'm sorry for throwing my bag at you. It was a childish outburst that I deeply regret.

And I don't want you to think that the reason we're breaking up has anything to do with Fluer. Really, Severus, we were over a long time before you ever told me about Fluer.

Let's face it, Severus, we're just too different: You like Stephen Hawking. I like J.K Rowling. You know it would never have worked.

Lil

* * *

To: Cissa Black

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Severus Snape

I did not throw my bag. It slipped out of my hand when I was reaching for my drink, and accidentally flew through the air and hit Severus in the eye.

And if you want him, Cissa, you can have him.

Lil

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Where I was

Okay, okay, I should have called. The whole thing was just a nightmare. But that's not what's important. This, you're never going to believe: Severus cheated on me in Chechnya.

That's right. And you'll never guess who with. Seriously. Try to guess. You never will. All right, I'll tell you Fluer Delacour.

Uh-huh. You read that correctly: Fluer Delacour, respected senior ABC news Correspondent, most recently host of the television news magazine TwentyFourSeven, and voted one of People Magazine's 50 Most Beautiful people last month. Can you believe she slept with SEVERUS? I mean, she could have Tom Cruise, for Merlin's sake. What would she want with SEVERUS?

Not that I didn't suspect. I always thought those stories he kept emailing in during that month he was on assignment there were way too smug. You know how I found out? Do you?

He TOLD me. He felt he was ready to reach the next level of intimacy with me (three guesses as to what level THAT is) and that in order to do so he felt he had to make a clean breast of it. He says ever since it happened, he's been wracked with guilt and that none of it meant anything. God, what a putz. I can't believe I wasted three months of my life on him. Are there no decent men out there? I mean, besides Remus. I swear, Milly, your boyfriend is the last good man on earth. The last one! You hang on to him, and don't let go, because I'm telling you, it's a jungle out there.

Lil

PS Can't go to lunch today, I have to go home and walk my neighbor's dog.

PPS don't ask: It's a long story.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: That Jerk

Look, the guy did you a favor. I mean, be honest, Lil. Did you really picture a future for the two of you? I mean, he smokes a PIPE, for crying out loud. And what's with all that classical music? Who does he think he is, anyway? Harold Bloom?

No. He's a reporter, just like the rest of us. He's not out there writing fine literature. So what's with that bust of William Shakespeare he keeps on top of his monitor? The man is a big phony, and you know it, Lil. That's why, in spite of the fact you two went out for three months, you never slept with him. Remember?

Milly ;-)

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: That Jerk

I never slept with him because of that goatee. How was I supposed to sleep with someone who looks like Robin Hood? He didn't want me enough even to shave.

What's wrong with me, Milly? Am I really not worth shaving for?

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: That Jerk

Give up the pity quest, Lil. You know you're gorgeous. The man is obviously suffering from a psychiatric disorder. We should sic Dolores Umbridge on him. Where are we going for lunch today? And do NOT say Burger Heaven. If I don't get down to a size 12 in two months, the wedding's off. Every girl in my family has worn my mother's dress to her wedding. I am not going to be the first Oxford to schlep out to Klinefeld's.

Milly :-)

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Lunch

Milly, you know I can't go to lunch. I have to go home and walk Mrs. Pettigrew's dog.

Did you hear the latest? Chris Noth and Winona. I'm not kidding. They were seen kissing in front of Crunch Fitness Center on Lafayette Street. How could she be so blind? Can't she see he isn't any good for her? I mean, look what he did to poor Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City.

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: Reality check

Lil,

I hate to break this to you, but Sex in the City is a fictional program. You might have heard already that there are these things called TV shows? Yeah, they are fictional. What happens on them in no way reflects on real life. For instance, in real life, Sarah Jessica

Parker is married to Matthew Broderick, and so whatever Chris Noth's character did to her character on her show, it didn't actually happen. In other words, I think you should be less concerned for Winona, and more worried about yourself, because this dog thing? Yeah, it's beginning to suck. That's just my opinion, of course.

Melissa

* * *

To: Lily Evans

cc: Melissa

From: Amos Diggory

Subject: CONFIDENTIAL

All right, girls, hold on to your hats. I got the information you requested, the salary increases for next year. It wasn't easy. If you tell anybody where you got this information, I will accuse you both of having gambling addictions and you'll be yanked into the Staff

Assistance Program before either of you can whistle Dixie.

Here goes:

Name: Position: Salary:

Cornelius Fudge Editor in Chief $120,000

Albus Dumbledore Managing Editor $ 85,000

Narcissa Black Style Editor $ 75,000

Severus Snape Chief Correspondent $ 75,000

Melissa Oxford Food Critic $ 45,000

Lily Evans Page Ten Columnist $ 45,000

Dolores Umbridge Human Resources Admin. $ 45,000

Read it and weep, girls.

Amos Diggory  
Computer Programmer  
Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: CONFIDENTIAL

I can't believe Dolores Umbridge makes as much as we do. What does SHE do? Sits around and listens to people whine all day about their dental plan. Please. I'm surprised about Narcissa. I'd have thought she made more. I mean, how does she keep herself in Hermes scarves on a mere $75,000 a year?

Milly ;-)

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: CONFIDENTIAL

Are you kidding? Cissa comes from money. Haven't you ever heard her talk about how she used to summer in Newport? I was going to ask Severus out for an I-forgive-you drink after work-NOT to get back together with him, just so he'll stop with the Wagner already—but now that I see how much more he makes than me, I can't even bear to look at him. I KNOW I'm a better writer than he is. So what's he getting $75,000/yr, while I'm stuck at $45, doing fashion shows and movie premieres?

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: CONFIDENTIAL

Um, because you're good at them? Fashion shows and movie premieres, I mean.

Milly ;-)

PS I have to do that new Peking duck place on Mott. Come with me. We'll grab lunch.

* * *

To: Melissa  
From: Lily Evans  
Subject: Lunch

I can't. You know I can't. I've got to walk Snuffles.

Lil

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: Lunch and That Dog

Okay, how long is this going to go on? You and that dog, I mean? I can't be going out to eat by myself every day. Who's going to keep me from ordering the double patty cheddar Lilt? I am serious. This dog thing is not working for me.

Milly

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Lunch and the Dog

What am I supposed to do, Milly? Let the poor thing sit in the apartment all day until he bursts? I know you aren't a dog person, but have some compassion. It's only until Mrs. Pettigrew gets better.

Lil

PS This just in: James Mayer and Katy Perry? On again. I swear it. His publicist just called. Apparently, she's totally over Brand now.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: It's only until Mrs. Pettigrew gets better

And when is THAT going to be? Earth to Lil. Come on, Lil. The woman is in a COMA. Okay? She is COMATOSE. I think some alternative arrangements for the woman's pets need to be made. You are a DOORMAT. A COMATOSE woman is using you as a DOORMAT. The woman has to have some relatives, Lil. FIND THEM.

Besides, people shouldn't keep Great Danes in the city. It's cruel.

Milly :-(

PS You are the only person I know who cares about James Mayer and Katy, seriously girl, get over it.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Blake and Rosalind Evans BlakeRose

Subject: Mary McDonald

Lily, honey, it's Mom. Look, your father and I got the Email! Isn't it great? Now I can write to you, and maybe you'll answer for a change! Just kidding, sweetheart. Anyway, Daddy and I thought you'd want to know that little Mary McDonald-you

remember Mary, don't you? Dr. Zachery McDonald's little girl? He was your dentist. And wasn't Mary Homecoming Queen your senior year in high school?-Anyway, Mary just got married! Yes! The announcement was in the paper. And do you know what, Lily? The Duane County Register is on the line now. What? Oh, Daddy says it's ONLINE, not on the line. Well, whatever. I get so confused. Anyway, Mary's announcement is ONLINE, so I am sending it to you, as what they call an attachment. I hope you enjoy it, dear. She's marrying a doctor from Westchester!

Well, we always knew she'd do well for herself. All that lovely blonde hair. And look, she graduated suma cum laude from Princeton! Then she went to law school. So impressive.

Not that there's anything wrong with being a reporter. Reporters are just as important as lawyers! And Lord knows, we all need to read some nice gossip now and then. Why, did you hear about Ted Turner and Martha Stewart? You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Well, enjoy! And you make sure you lock your door at night. Daddy and I worry about you, living there in that big city all alone.

Bye for now-

Mommy

Attachment:

(Glam photo of wedding couple)

Mary Deborah McDonald, the daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Zachery Andrew Phillips of Lansing, IL, was married last week to Dirk Cresswell, the son of Dr. and Mrs. Reginald Bourke of Chapaqua, NY. The Rev. James Smith performed the ceremony at the Roman Catholic Church of Saint Anthony in Lansing.

Ms. McDonald, 26, is an associate at Schuler, Higgins, and Brandt, the international law firm based in New York. She received a bachelor's degree from Princeton, from which she graduated suma cum laude, and a law degree from Harvard. Her father is a dentist and oral surgeon in Lansing, operating the Phillips Dental Practice.

Mr. Cresswell, 31, received a bachelor's degree from Yale and an MBA from Columbia University. He is an associate at the investment banking group of Lehman Brothers. His father, now retired, was the president of Bourke &amp; Associates, a private investment firm.

After a honeymoon trip to Thailand, the couple will reside in Chapaqua.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Cissa Black

Subject: Mothers

Darling, when I heard all that anguished shrieking from your cubicle just now I thought at the very least Tom Cruise had finally come out of the closet. But Milly tells me it's just because you received an email from your mother. How well I understand. And I am so glad my mother is far too drunk ever to learn to operate a keyboard. I highly suggest you send your doting parents a case of Campari and have done with it. Trust me, it's the only way to shut them up on the dreaded subject of M. As in, Why aren't you M yet? All your friends are M. You aren't even trying to get M. Don't you want me to see my grandchildren before I die?

As if I would EVER give birth. I suppose a well-mannered little six year old would be all right, but they simply don't COME that way. You have to TRAIN them. Too tiresome. I can understand your anguish.

Cissa XXXOOO

PS Did you notice Severus shaved? It's a pity. I never realized what a weak chin he has.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Dolores

Subject: Staff Assistance Program

Dear Ms. Evans, You might think it amusing to make light of the Human Resources Department's Staff Assistance Program, but I can assure you that we have helped many of your co-workers through dark and difficult times. Through counseling and therapy, they have all gone on to lead meaningful, profitable lives. I find it disheartening that you would belittle a program that has done so much for so many.

Please note that a copy of your latest email has been placed in your personnel file, and will be available to your supervisor during your next performance review.

Dolores Umbridge

Human Resources Administrator

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Dolores Umbridge

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Staff Assistance Program

Dear Ms. Umbridge,

What I find disheartening is the fact that I reached out to you and all the other Human Resource administrators, and instead of being given the aid I so desperately need, I was brutally rebuffed. Are you saying that my chronic status as a single woman is not worthy of assistance? Do I have to tell you how demoralizing it is to buy Lean Cuisines Fiesta Meals For One every night at the Food Emporium? What about having to order my pizza by the slice? Do you think that isn't whittling away at my self-esteem, slice by disheartening slice? And what about salad? Do you have any idea how many pounds of lettuce I have ingested in an effort to maintain my size 6 figure, so that I might entice a man? Even though it goes against every fiber of my feminist being to cater to the misogynistic more that exists in western culture that insists that attractiveness is parallel to one's waistsize? If you are trying to say that being a single woman in New York City is not a disability,

then I respectfully submit that you visit a Manhattan deli on a Saturday night. Who do you see crowded around the salad bar? That's right. The single girls. Face reality, Dolores. It's a jungle out there. It's kill or be killed. I am merely suggesting that you, as a mental health expert, accept that truth, and move on.

Lily Evans

Page Ten Columnist

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Albus

Subject: Cut it out

Stop teasing Dolores Umbridge down in Human Resources. You know she doesn't have any sense of humor. If you have so much free time, come to me. I'll give you plenty to do.

The obit guy just quit.

A

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Severus

Subject: Forgive Me

I don't know where to begin. First of all, I can't stand this. You ask what this is. I'll tell you: this is sitting here all day, seeing you there in your cubicle, knowing that you said never want to speak to me again.

This is watching you walk towards me, thinking you might have Change your mind, only to have you pass by without so much as even glancing in my direction. This is knowing that you'll walk out of here at the end of the day, that I will have no idea where you will be, what you will do, and that an abyss of time will elapse before you walk back in here the next day.

This-or should I say, these?-are the countless, uncountable hours during which my mind leaves me, and pursues you out the door, following you in an imaginative journey that leads nowhere, right back where I started, sitting here thinking about this.

Severus Snape

Senior Correspondent

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Severus

From: Lily Evans

Subject: This

That was really moving, Severus. Have you ever considered writing fiction for a living?

Seriously. I think you've got real talent.

Lil

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Remus Lupin foodie

Subject: We Got Email

Milly! Look! We got email!

Isn't it righteous? You can write to me at foodie . Get it? I'm foodie because I'm the chef! Anyway, just thought I'd say hi. Now we can email each other all day long!

What are you wearing? How come you never wear that bustier I got you to work? Do you want to know tonight's specials?

·Asparagus tips wrapped in salmon

·Soft Shell Crab

·Lobster bisque

·Pasta putanesca

·Red Snapper in an orchietta sauce

·Filet Mignon

·Creme brulle

I'll save you some bisque.

Hey, by the way, my uncle Casper is throwing us an engagement party next weekend. Nothing fancy, just out by the pool at his house in Long Island. So keep Saturday free!

Love you,

Remus

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: Another one

Look, Remus's uncle Cas' throwing us an engagement party (yes, another one) and I'm telling you right now, YOU HAVE GOT TO COME. Seriously, Lil, I don't think I can handle another round of Lupins without you. You know what they're like. And this one has a pool. You know they're going to throw me in. You just know it.

Say you'll come and keep me from being humiliated. PLEASE.

Milly :-O

PS And don't you be giving me that damned DOG excuse again.

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: I can't

You know I can't go. How am I supposed to go all the way out to Long Island when I have Snuffles to think of? You know he has to go out every four to five hours. I am wearing out my Steve Madden's as it is running back and forth between the office and my apartment building, trying to get there in time to take him out. There's no way I can go all

the way out to Long Island. The poor thing might explode.

Lil

PS Vivica-you know, the supermodel, and Adam Levin's latest arm candy—has dumped him! Seriously! She's dumped Levine! He is said to be devastated, and she's gone into hiding. Poor things. I really thought that one was going to work out.

* * *

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: Snuffles

Okay, this is ridiculous. Lil, you cannot put your life on hold just because your next door neighbor happens to be in a coma. Seriously. There must be someone in the woman's family who can look after that stupid dog. Why do YOU have to do it? You've done enough, for God's sake. I mean, you probably saved her life. Let someone else handle Snuffles and his digestive schedule. I mean it. I am not getting into that pool on my own. If you don't find this woman's next of kin, I will.

Milly :(

PS Excuse me, I understand your concern for Winona, but Adam Levine? And Vivica? the Victoria's Secret water-bra girl? They'll be fine. Trust me.

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Snuffles

It's easy for you to say let someone else handle Snuffles. My question would be WHO? Mrs. Pettigrew's only living relative is her nephew Peter, and not even the cops have been able to find him to tell him what happened to her. I know he lives somewhere in the city, but his phone number's unlisted. Apparently, he's some up-and-coming photographer with pictures in the Whitney, or something. At least, according to his aunt. And quite popular with the ladies...ergo, the unlisted number, I assume so the ladies husbands can't track him down. And of course, his aunt doesn't have his number written down

anywhere because she undoubtedly had it memorized. In any case, what can I do? I can't put the poor thing in a kennel. He's already freaked out enough about his owner being...well, you know. How can I leave him locked up in some cage somewhere? Seriously, Milly, if you saw his eyes, you wouldn't be able to do it, either. He is the sweetest thing I've ever seen, and that includes all my nieces and

nephews. If only he were a man. I'd marry him. I swear it.

Lil

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Remus Lupin foodie

Subject: What do you mean you're not going?

Milly, you HAVE to go. The party is for YOU. Well, you and me. You can't not go. And don't give me any of that bull about how you don't want anybody in my family to see you in a swimsuit. How many times do I have to tell you that you are the hottest girl in the world? Do you think I care what size you wear? You have it going on, girl.

Only you should wear those thongs I bought you more often.

I don't understand what difference it makes whether or not Lily goes. Why do women always have to do things together? It doesn't make any sense. Besides, if you feel that strongly about it, just tell them you have an ear infection and can't get in the water. Jeez. I don't get you dames. I really don't.

Lupin

* * *

To: Lily Evans

cc: Milly

From: Cissa Black

Subject: Your Little Problem

Darlings:

I couldn't help but overhear your little tete-a-tete in the Ladies just now. I was otherwise occupied, or I would have joined in (we really ought to talk to someone about how narrow those stalls are. Fortunately, Jimmy-you know, the new fax boy-is quite surprisingly flexible, or we never would have managed ;-) First of all, Lil, sweetheart, Peter Pettigrew did not have just any old picture in the

Whitney-which you would know, if you ever ventured out of Blockbuster long enough to take in some real culture. He had a stunning self-portrait on display there for the Biennial, in which he was sans apparel. If you ask me, the man's a photographic genius.

Though that may not be where his true talent lies, judging by that photo...if you get my drift. And I'm sure you do.

Anyway, he has, for reasons unfathomable to me, chosen to cheapen his gift by prostituting himself out for photo shoots such as, just as an example, last Winter's Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. And he just finished up the Victoria's Secret Christmas catalog, I believe. All you have to do, children, is contact those so-called publications, and I'm sure they'll know how to get a message to him. Well, ta for now.

Cissa XXXOOO

PS Oh, Lil, about Severus. Look, can't you throw him a bone? He's no good to me like this. And all that Wagner is giving me a migraine.

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Listen, thanks to Cissa, I think I've finally managed to track down Peter Pettigrew!

At least, no one seems to have his number, but I've got an email address. Help me draft a note to him. You know I don't do well with groveling.

Lil

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy

From: Lily Evans

Subject: Your aunt

Dear Mr. Pettigrew,

I hope you get this. You are probably not aware that the police have been trying to reach you for several days now. I am sorry to inform you that your aunt, Helen Pettigrew, has been seriously injured. She has been the victim of an alleged assault in her apartment.

She is currently listed in critical condition at Beth Israel Hospital here in New York. Unfortunately, she is in a coma, and the doctors have no way of knowing if she will ever come out of it.

Please, Mr. Pettigrew, if you get this message, call me as soon as possible on my cell phone, 917-555-2123, or if you are unable to get to a phone, please feel free to email me.

We need to discuss how you think your aunt would best like her pets cared for while she is in the hospital. I know this is the last thing you need to be worried about right now, considering how grave your aunt's condition is, but I can't imagine that, being the great animal lover she is, your aunt didn't have some sort of proviso arranged for just this sort of circumstance. I am her next door neighbor ( in apartment 15B), and I have been walking Snuffles and taking care of your aunt's cats, but I'm afraid that my schedule does not allow for full-time petcare. Taking care of Snuffles is beginning to effect my job performance.

Please contact me as soon as you can.

* * *

Lily Evans

To: Lily Evans

From: Melissa

Subject: The Letter

I like it. Short but sweet. And it gets the point across.

Milly :)

PS I think it's good you left out the part about all your tardies. No one in the real world cares about tardies. Just at OUR Shit work place does anyone keep track of how late we are.

* * *

To: Melissa

From: Lily Evans

Subject: The Letter

Yeah, but do you think he'll even get it? From what I can tell based on the people I've talked to so far, this Peter Pettigrew seems to be taking the role of playboy artiste to brand new heights. In fact, I can't believe he's never hit Page Ten before! Plus it seems like he's always on the road. The guy was in Thailand on a shoot last month, Hawaii last week, and this week, what do you know? Nobody seems to have any idea where he is. Oh, and it's no good trying his cell phone: According to SI, he lost it scuba diving in Belize. If he even gets this message, does he sound to you like the kind of guy who'll even do anything about it? I'm a little worried.

And it's okay, I guess. I mean, I'm bonding with the cats (well, Crookshanks won't come out from under the bed) and Snuffles' like my best friend now.

But I've gotten five more of those tardy warnings from Human Resources. They are seriously going to put me on probation! But what can I do? Snuffles NEEDS a good hour long walk in the morning. Still, if I have to ditch out of one more society function because

I have to get home to walk that dog, I'm pretty sure I'm going to get fired. I completely missed the Sarah Jessica Parker thing the other night because Snuffles wouldn't go. I had to walk him for like an hour. Albus was furious, because the Chronicle got the scoop on us.

Though what the Chronicle is doing, reporting on celeb gossip, I can't imagine. I always thought they were too highbrow for that!

Lil

* * *

**Whew, that's it!**

**I really hope you enjoy it, please read and review. Give me a hint whether I should continue it or not.**

**-Marley**


	2. Chapter 2

**So even though I only got two reviews (You guys are awesome :D ) One of them did encourage me to continue this story (Thank you thank you thank you!) So a shout out to Sunny1601 (if you had an account I would have totally pmed you to thank you for your words of encouragement :)) Here's the second chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or The boy next door by Meg Cabot!**

To: Tom Barrett concierge(a)paradiseinn . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: Message

To Whom It May Concern:

Please deliver the following message to Vivica Chandler, who is staying in the Sopradilla

Cottage.

Viv-

Do not-I repeat, DO NOT-accept any messages, telephone calls, faxes, emails, etc. for me from a woman named Lily Evans.

No, don't worry, she's not one of my exes. She's my aunt's next door neighbor.

Apparently, Helen took a tumble, and this Evans woman is trying to get in touch with me about the stupid dog.

But we aren't going to let her ruin our little get away together, are we?

So don't even answer the door until I get there. I'm just finishing up the Neve Campbell shoot, and then I'll be taking the red-eye out from LAX, so I ought to be there in Time to watch the sunset with you, baby. Keep the champagne chilled for me.

Love ya,

Peter

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: Tom Barrett concierge(a)paradiseinn . com

Subject: Message

Dear Mr. Pettigrew,

It is my pleasure to inform you that your message for Miss Chandler has been delivered. If there is anything else we here at the Paradise Inn can do to make your stay an enjoyable one, please do not hesitate to let us know.

We look forward to your joining us tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Tom Barrett Concierge

Paradise Inn

Key West, Florida

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: My Aunt

Dear Ms. Evans,

I am shocked. Deeply shocked and appalled to hear what has happened to my aunt Helen. She is, as I'm sure you know, my only living relative. I cannot thank you enough for the efforts you've gone to in order to contact me and let me know about this tragedy.

Although I am currently on assignment in Africa-perhaps you've heard of the drought here in Ethiopia? I am doing a photo shoot for the Save the Children Fund-I will begin making preparations to return to New York at once. If my aunt should wake before I get there, please assure her that I am on my way.

And thank you again, Ms. Evans. Everything they say about cold and unfeeling New Yorkers is obviously untrue in your case. God bless you.

Sincerely,

Peter Pettigrew

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: SOS

Dude. I'm in trouble. You've got to help me out.

I'm serious. You don't know what's at stake here: I have a chance for an extended vacation with Vivica. Yeah, you read that right. Vivica. The supermodel. The one who just dumped Levine. The one in those ads for that new bra with the water pump. The one on the SI cover. Yeah. THAT one.

But it's not going to work out, buddy, if you don't do me a little favor. Just one little favor. That's all I'm asking. And I know I don't have to remind you about that Time I saved your you-know-what in Vegas. Remember? Spring Break, our senior year? I've never seen anybody drink as many pitchers of margaritas as you did that night. I'm telling you, man, you'd be paying alimony right now if it weren't for me. I SAVED you. And you swore to me the next day (by the pool, remember?) that if there was ever anything you could do for me, you'd do it.

Well, today's the day. I'm calling it in. The Favor.

Crap, they're making me put away my electronic devices for take-off. Write back, man. I gotta know if you can do this for me, or else I'm dead meat.

Peter

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming, and just now, it arrived: A dispatch from Peter Pettigrew, demanding payback for a favor he did me our senior year in college. My God, that was ten years ago. The man has a mind like a sieve. He can't remember his own Social Security number, but this favor I owe him, he remembers. What did I ever do to deserve this?

You remember Peter, don't you, Padfoot? He was my roommate senior year, the one I got my first apartment with when I moved to the city after college. That dive in Hell's Kitchen, where the guy got stabbed in the back the first night we were there-remember? It was in the papers the next day...I think that's what led to my deciding to become a crime reporter, as a matter of fact.

Remember how Mim offered to get me out of the lease so I could move in with her and live, to quote Mim, like a human being? God, after two months of living with Peter, I almost took her up on it. It's like the guy still thought we were in college-half of Manhattan used to show up in our living room for Monday night football every week.

No hard feelings when I moved out, though. He still calls me every few months to catch up. And now this.

God only knows what Peter wants me to do for him. Rescue a raftful of refugee Cuban ballerinas, I suppose. Or house the Australian rugby team. Or loan him the $50,000 he owes to the Russian mob. I am seriously considering leaving the country, Padfoot. Do you think Mim would let me have the Lear for the weekend?

James

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

I hesitate to ask, of course, but as your big brother, I feel I have a right to know:

What, precisely, did Peter Pettigrew do for you that left you owing him this enormous debt?

Sirius

PS Spica says when are you coming to visit? The kids have been asking about you. Brittany's riding post, and Haley won best jumper at last week's exhibit.

PPS No go on the Lear. Julia's using it.

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Her name was Heidi. She was a showgirl. She had feathers in her hair, and a dress cut down there. Okay, not really. But her name was Heidi, and she was a showgirl. And apparently, I was determined to make her the first Mrs. James Potter.

You wouldn't understand, of course, having never done anything even slightly disreputable in all of your thirty-five years, but try, Sirius, to put yourself in my shoes: It was Spring Break. I was twenty-two. I was in love. I'd had way too many margaritas.

Peter dragged me out of the Wedding Chapel, sent Heidi home, took away my keys so I couldn't follow her, sobered me up, and put me to bed. I still think of her someTimes. She had red hair, and slightly bucked teeth. She was adorable. But not worth THIS.

James

PS Congratulate Haley and Brittany for me. Are you going out to the Vineyard this weekend?

I could meet you all there. Depending on whatever this favor of Peter's turns out to be.

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Ah. It is all become clear now. I know how you are when it comes to redheads.

And just what is THIS?

Sirius

PS No, we're going to the place in the Hamptons. You're welcome to join us.

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: SOS

I don't even want to ask. What is it that you want me to do for you, Peter?

And please, I'm begging you, nothing illegal in New York, or any other, state.

James

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: SOS

Look, it'll be a piece of cake: All I want you to do is be me. Just for a

week or two. Well, okay, maybe a month. Simple, right?

Here's the 411:

My aunt-you know, the filthy stinking rich one who always kind of reminded me of your grandma, Mimi, or whatever the hell her name is? The one who was so mean about our apartment? The neighborhood wasn't that bad.

Anyway, my aunt apparently suffered a senior moment and let a psychopath into her place, who conked her on the head and fled, and now she's in the vegetable crisper at Beth Israel. There is a chance-albeit a small one-according to her doctors, that she might come

out of it. So you understand that it simply won't do to have her waking up and finding out that her beloved Pete didn't fly to her side as soon as he heard about her accident. Auntie Helen's will is arranged 80-20-80% of the twelve million my aunt is worth goes to me

upon her demise, and 20% goes to various charitable organizations she sponsors. We wouldn't want there to be any sort of untiLily shift in those percentiles, now would we, on account of Pete turning out to have been playing house with a supermodel during this alarming tragedy? Of course we wouldn't. Which is where you, my friend, come in:

You're going to tell this neighbor of hers that you're me.

That's it. Just be me, so Ms. Lily Evans reports back to Auntie Helen-if she ever comes around, which is extreLily doubtful-that yes, her beloved nephew Pete did show up as soon as he heard about her little accident. Oh, yeah, and you might have to walk this dog a few Times. Just to shut the neighbor up.

And of course, if the old biddy shows the slightest sign of rejoining the conscious, you call me. Got it? And I'll rush right back.

But since I figure the chance of an eighty-year-old woman springing back from this kind of thing is pretty much nil, I won't be expecting to hear from you.

You know I wouldn't ask you to do this if we weren't talking Vivica here. Okay? VIVICA. The girl is supposedly very well versed in yoga. YO

GA, Potter.

You do this for me, and your slate's clean, dude. Whadduya say?

Peter

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: SOS

Let me see if I've got this straight:

Your aunt was the vicAmos of a brutal assault, and you don't even care enough to postpone your vacation? That is cold, Pettigrew. Really cold. Essentially, what you want me to do is commit fraud-a crime punishable by five to ten years in a state penitentiary-by impersonating you. Is that it?

I think I'd rather be married to the showgirl.

James

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: SOS

You crime reporters are all alike. Listen to me, Potter. I'm only going to say this once:

It's not fraud if you have my permission to impersonate me.

Why do you have to make it sound so underhanded? I told you, Helen's in a coma. She's never even going to know about it. If she croaks, you tell me, I come back to arrange the

funeral. If she comes out of it, you tell me, I come back to help her convalesce. But as long as she's unconscious, she's never going to know the difference. So why postpone anything? Besides, we're talking Vivica here.

You see how easy things can be if you don't overanalyze them? You were always like this. I remember those multiple choice tests we'd get in Bio, you were always, It can't be A-that's too obvious. They must be trying to trick us, and so you'd choose D, when the answer was CLEARLY A. As long as Auntie Helen-and her lawyers-don't know any better, why not let me enjoy my well-earned little vacation? Placate this neighbor of hers. That's all I'm asking. Just take over the dog-walking duties a few nights a week.

I think it's a very small price to pay, considering that I kept you from making the worst mistake of your entire life. You think old Mimsy would still be inviting you up to those soirees on the Vineyard if you had a Vegas showgirl for a wife?

I think not. I think you owe your buddy Pete, but good.

Peter

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

He wants me to walk his comatose aunt's dog while he's off partying with a supermodel.

I guess it could be worse. A lot worse.

So why do I have such a bad feeling about it?

James

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

You're right. It could be worse. Are you going to do it?

Sirius

PS Spica says to tell you she's got the perfect girl for you: Haley's dressage instructor. Twenty-nine, size four, blonde, blue-eyed, the works. What do you say?

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Why not? I mean, walking an old lady's dog...How bad can that be?

James

PS You know I can't stand dressage. There's something unnatural about making a horse dance.

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

The horses don't dance in dressage, you moron. They step. And have you ever considered that you and Heidi might have been perfectly suited for one another? I mean, with the kind of luck you've been having with women lately, Heidi could very well have been your

last chance at real happiness. Just think, if you'd followed your heart, instead of Peter Pettigrew's head, you could be the one providing Mim with a grandkid next December, instead of me.

Sirius

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you?

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: SOS

Okay, I'll do it.

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: Operation Snuffles

All right. I'll let the neighbor know to expect you (I mean, me) tonight for the big key exchange. She's got my aunt's spare. It has not apparently occurred to her to wonder why Aunt Helen never gave me a key to her place (that fire in her last apartment was not my fault. There was something wrong with the wiring).

Remember, you're supposed to be me, so try to act like you care about the old lady's hemotoma, or whatever it is. And listen, as long as you're being me, could you try to dress with a little...what's the word I'm looking for here? Oh, I know. STYLE. I know for guys like you who are born into money, the instinct is to downplay the trillions you're worth. And that's cool with me. I mean, I can understand this whole thing you're doing, getting a real job instead of the cushy family one your big brother offered. And I'm totally fine with it. If you want to pretend like you're only making forty five grand a year, that's just great. But while you're being me, could you PLEASE not dress like a grad student?

I am begging you: No Grateful Dead T-shirts. And stone-washed jeans? Yeah, those are OUT, James.

And those deck shoes you always wear? Would something in a tassel kill you?

And for the love of God, invest in a leather jacket. Please. I know it will mean touching some of those precious millions in that trust fund your grandfather left you, but really, something NOT from the Gap would be good.

That's all. That's all I ask. Just try to look good when you're imitating me. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.

Peter

PS The neighbor left a number, but I lost it. Her email's ( (a)thehogwartsjournal. com)

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: SOS

Merlin, Pettigrew, she works for the Hogwarts JOURNAL?

You didn't say that. You didn't say anything about your aunt's neighbor working for the Hogwarts Journal. Don't you get it, Peter? She might KNOW me. I'm a journalist. So is she. Yeah, we work for rival papers, but for God's sake, the field's pretty small. What if she opens the door and it turns out we've been to the same conferences-or crime scenes?

Your cover will be blown. Or do you not care?

J

PS And how am I supposed to email her? She's going to know I'm not you when she reads my address.

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: Operation Snuffles

Of course I care. And don't worry, I already checked her out. She does the gossip page. I doubt you've been running into any gossip columnists at the crime scenes you've been covering lately.

Peter

PS Apply for a second email account. My God, it's not like you don't have the money.

PPS Quit bugging me. Vivica and I are trying to watch the sunset.

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: I'm not happy

Gossip? She's a gossip columnist, Peter? She's going to know I'm not you for SURE.

Peter? PETER?

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Oh my God, Milly! I heard from him!

He's on assignment in Ethiopia, photographing little starving kids for the Save the Children Fund! And I've just asked him to leave to come home and take care of his aunt's dog! What kind of a horrible bitch must I seem to him? Oh God, I knew I shouldn't have tried

to contact him. Now he's going to hate me.

Lily

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

What's more important to him, a bunch of starving kids he doesn't know, or his aunt's dog? I don't mean to sound cold, but starving children or not, the man has to take some responsibility. Besides, his aunt is in a coma, Lily. I mean, if your only living relative is in a coma, you come home, for God's sake, starving kids or not.

When's he getting here, anyway? Are you going to be able to make the pool party? Because Remus's threatening to break off the engagement if I don't go.

Milly :-/

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Cissa Black (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Darling, I could hear you shrieking all the way in the art department. I thought at the very least the cast of Friends was breaking up. But now I find out it's only because Peter Pettigrew emailed you. But what's this I hear about him doing it from in Ethiopia? Peter Pettigrew would

NEVER go to Ethiopia. My God, it's so...dusty there. You must be confusing him with someone else. Now, listen, about Severus: I am bound and determined to make him into something I wouldn't be ashamed to introduce to Stephen. So do you think he'll resist strongly to my steering him over towards Barney's? He's simply got to have some linen pants, don't you think? He'll look so devastatingly F Scott Fitzgerald in linen. Can you say something, darling, next Time you pass him on your way to the copier?

Something completely cutting like, Nice khakis, ought to put him exactly where I want him.

Cissa XXXOOO

* * *

To: Blake and Rosalind Evans BlakeRose(a)dnr . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Debbie Phillips

Hi, Mom. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Things here have been pretty busy, like I mentioned to you over the phone. I'm still walking Mrs. Pettigrew's dog, but tonight her nephew is supposed to come by, and hopefully we'll work something out. Which is good because I've been getting into trouble at work for being late every day. Working stiffs. It's like they think they're special, or something, because they control what goes into our performance files.

Anyway, other than the stuff with Mrs. Pettigrew (don't worry, Mom, I always lock my door, and I never open my door to strangers-besides, Ralph, the doorman, would never let a stranger up without buzzing me first), things have been going okay. I'm still stuck on Page Ten-I can't convince Mr. Sanchez, my boss, that I really could do hard reporting, if he'd let me.

Let's see, what else? Oh, I broke up with that guy I told you about. It wasn't going anywhere. Well, at least, I didn't see it going where he saw it going. Besides, it turns out he was cheating on me with Fluer Delacour. Well, I guess he wasn't really cheating since he and I never really did anything anyway-don't let Daddy read this, all right?

Oh, there's the buzzer. Mrs. Pettigrew's nephew is here. I have to go.

Love,

Lily

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Blake and Rosalind Evans BlakeRose(a)dnr . com

Subject: Strange men

Lillian! You call me as soon as that man is gone! How could you let a man you've never met before into your apartment? He could be that serial killer I saw on the Inside Edition! The one who puts on his vicAmoss clothes and strolls around in them after he's done hacking their bodies into pieces! If you don't call Daddy and me within one hour, I'm

telephoning the police. I mean it, Lily.

Mommy

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

So? What was he like?

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Remus Lupin foodie(a)fresche . com

Subject: Well?

DON'T TELL MILLY I WROTE THIS.

But listen, Lily, you have GOT to get this guy to take over the dog-walking thing for you. Because if you don't, and you can't come to this engagement party at my uncle Casper's, Milly's going to have a nervous breakdown. I swear to God. Don't ask me why, but she's got this thing with her weight, and she needs like your moral support or something every Time she has to get into a bathing suit. So as her maid of honor, it is your duty to appear with her at this party on Saturday. So get this dude to walk the dog that day, okay?

If he gives you a hard Time, let me know. I'll take care of him. People think guys who cook can't be tough, but that's not true. I'll do to the guy's face what I did to tonight's special, which happened to be veal picatta-pounded flat and swimming in the lightest white wine sauce you ever tried. I'll give you the recipe if you want later.

NOW DON'T FORGET!

Remus

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: Operation Snuffles

You wore tassels, right? On your shoes? When you went to see her tonight?

Just tell me you wore tassels.

Peter

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: How'd It Go?

Just wondering how your little performance this evening went.

And Spica wants to know if you're still coming for dinner on Thursday like we planned.

Sirius

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: HI!

HI! THIS IS VIVICA, PETER'S FREIND, WRITING TO YOU ON EMAIL! PETER IS IN THE HOT TUB BUT HE ASKED ME TO ASK YOU HOW IT WENT WITH THAT WEIRD LADY WHO HAS THE DOG PROBLEM. DID SHE BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE PETER? IT IS WEIRD TO BE WRITING TO YOU SEEING AS HOW I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU. WHAT IS THE WEATHER LIKE IN NEW YORK? HERE IT IS EIGHTY AND BEAUTIFUL. WE SAW SOME PERFORMING CATS TODAY. IT WAS CRAZY! WHO KNEW

CATS COULD DO THAT? OH PETER SAYS TO ASK YOU TO CALL HIM HERE AT THE HOTEL AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS MESSAGE. THE NUMBER IS 904-555-6576. ASK FOR THE

SOPRADILLA COTTAGE. SOPRADILLA IS A FLOWER. IT GROWS ALL OVER KEY WEST. KEY WEST IS ONLY NINETY MILES FROM CUBA, WHERE I ONCE DID A SWIMSUIT SHOOT. UH OH I HAVE TO GO PETER IS HERE IIEEIHHILZHMND V...

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: What he's like

Okay, the stats:

I would say six foot one or two. Big shoulders. I mean really big. Dark messy hair, but not too dark. Hazel eyes. You know the kind. SomeTimes green. SomeTimes brown. SomeTimes searing into my soul... Just kidding. As for the rest:

I don't know. It's kind of hard to explain. He wasn't what I was expecting, that's for sure. I mean, from what I'd heard, about the modeling shoots and everything, I was expecting a real smooth operator, you know? But what kind of smooth operator goes around

in a Grateful Dead T-shirt? And he had on jeans. And deck shoes with no socks.

I expected Gucci loafers at least.

And he was so modest-I mean, for a guy who entered a nude picture of himself into the Biennial. I think Cissa must be exaggerating about that. Maybe he wasn't really nude. Maybe he was wearing one of those flesh-colored body stockings they wear, you know, in the movies.

And he didn't want to talk about his trip to Ethiopia at all! When I mentioned the work he was doing for the Save the Children fund, he actually seemed embarrassed, and tried to change the subject. I tell you, Milly, he doesn't seem at all the way Cissa described him.

Even Mrs. Pettigrew didn't do him justice. She's always talked about him as if she thought he was a little irresponsible, but I'm telling you, Milly, he didn't seem that way to me. He asked all sorts of things about what happened-I mean about the break-in, and all. Although I guess it wasn't really a break-in, since the door wasn't even locked...

Anyway, it was really touching how much he seemed to care about his aunt. He asked me to show him where I found her, and how she was lying, and if anything was missing...

It was almost as if he'd had some experience dealing with violent crime...I don't know.

Maybe there were some catfights at the Victoria's Secret shoot?!

Another odd thing: he seemed kind of surprised at how big Snuffles is. I mean, considering that I know Mrs. Pettigrew had Peter over for dinner at least a few months ago, and Snuffles five years old, so it's not like he could have grown any. When I mentioned how last week Snuffles practically wrenched my shoulder out of its socket, Peter said he didn't see how a frail old lady could walk such a big dog on a regular basis.

Isn't that funny? I guess only a nephew would think of Mrs. Pettigrew as frail. She's always seemed like a tough old bird to me. I mean, considering that last year she hiked all over Yosemite...

Anyway, Milly, I'm so glad you made me get in touch with him! Because he said he didn't feel right about me walking Snuffles with my hurt shoulder and all, and that he was going to move in next door, to take care of the animals and sort of keep an eye on things.

Can you believe that? A man who actually takes care of his responsibilities? I am still in shock.

I have to go-someone's at the door. Oh, God, it's the cops! My mother called the cops! I forgot to call her back!

Gotta go-

L

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: What he's like

Okay, the cops are gone. I explained about my mother and her obsession with the transvestite killer. They didn't even get that mad.

Anyway, Milly, do you want to know something else? About Peter Pettigrew, I mean. If you can stand it... From where I'm sitting, at my desk at home, I can see into his apartment-I mean, Mrs. Pettigrew's apartment. Right into the spare bedroom. Mrs. Pettigrew always kept the mini-blinds in that room down, but Peter opened them right up (to look at the city lights, I guess-we do have that nice view here on the 15th floor) and I can see him lying on the bed, typing something on his laptop. Tweedle-dum is on the bed beside him, as is Snuffles,

of course (no sign of Crookshanks, but then, he's shy). I know it's wrong to look, but, Milly, they look so nice and happy in there!

And I guess it doesn't hurt that Peter really has very nice forearms...

Oh, God. I had better go to bed. I think I'm getting slap-happy.

Love,

Lily

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: How'd It Go?

She's a redhead. Help.

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Cissa Black (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Darling, did I overhear you correctly when I ran into you and Milly at Starbucks this morning? Did you say Peter Pettigrew actually moved in next door to you? And that you were actually spying on him? And that you saw him naked? I seem to have gotten some water in my ears last weekend at Stephen's, so I just want to make sure I heard you right before I call every single person I know and tell them.

Cissa XXXOOO

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Cissa

Lily-

Would you stop obsessing? Who is she going to tell? Cissa doesn't know that many people. And the ones she does know all hate her and wouldn't believe her anyway.

Trust me.

Milly

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Severus Snape (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: You

Lily, did I hear this from Cissa correctly? Did a naked man move in next door to you?

What happened to the old lady? Did she end up dying? I hadn't heard. I'm very sorry for your loss, if that's the case. I know the two of you were fairly close, for Manhattan neighbors. But I don't think it's appropriate for a man to parade around nude in front of his neighbors. You really ought to complain to the co-op board about this, Lily. I know you are only renting, and that you don't like to make waves because you have such a good deal on the place, but this kind of thing could be perceived as a sexual assault.

Really, it could.

Lily, I was wondering if you'd given any thought to what I said in the elevator the other day. I really meant it. I think it's Time. I remember that day when we went walking through Central Park during your lunch hour. It seems so long ago, but it was only last spring. You purchased a hot dog from an outdoor vendor, and I urged you not to, because of that story I did on carcinogens in street cart food. I'll never forget the way your blue eyes flashed at me as you said, Severus, in order to die, you have to live a little first.

Lily, I've decided: I want to live. And the person I want to live with, more than anyone else in the world, is you. I believe I am ready to make a commitment.

Oh, Lily, please won't you let that commitment be with you?

Severus

Severus Snape

Senior Correspondent

The Hogwarts Journal

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Albus Dumbledore (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Tardiness

So Cissa tells me you finally got in touch with the dog guy. That would explain why you were on Time this morning for the first Time in 27 days.

Congratulations, kid. I'm proud of you. Now if you'd just start handing in your copy on Time, I won't have to fire you. But I guess I shouldn't count on that happening, since I hear this new neighbor of yours looks pretty good in the buff.

A

* * *

To: Cissa Black (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Cissa, I swear to God, if you tell one more person that I saw Peter Pettigrew naked I will personally come over there and put a stake through your heart, which I hear is the only way to stop people like you. He was not NAKED, okay? He was fully clothed. FULLY CLOTHED AT ALL TIMES. Well, except for his forearms. But that's all I saw, I swear it.

So stop telling people otherwise!

Lily

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Cissa Black (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

Darling, have I struck a nerve or something? I've never seen you use All Caps quite so strenuously. Peter must have really made an impression on you for you to be so heated up. But then, he has that effect on women. He can't help it. Pheromones, you know. The man is lousy with them. Well, must go. Cornelius Fudge is taking me to lunch. Yes, that's right, Cornelius Fudge the editor in chief. Who knows, when I get back from lunch, I just might have a nice fat promotion. But don't worry, I won't forget the little people.

Cissa XXXOOO

PS What do you think of Severus's new pants? Aren't they just the thing? Hugo Boss. I know, I know. But it's a start.

* * *

To: Remus Lupin foodie(a)fresche . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Saturday

Hi! Just a quick note to tell you not to worry-I'll be there Saturday.

Yes, the dog guy actually showed up! See you then-

Proud to be your future wife's maid of honor-

Lily

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: How'd It Go?

She's a redhead? That's IT? You're just going to leave me hanging here? WHAT HAPPENED?

Sirius

PS Spica wants to know, too.

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: How It Went

Sorry. I got hung up on a story, and then I had to go back to Pettigrew's aunt's place to walk the dog. Peter failed to mention that the misleadingly-named Snuffles is a GREAT DANE. The dog weighs more than Mim. So what do you want to know? Did she believe I was Peter Pettigrew? I am sorry to say that she did.

Did I play the part of Peter Pettigrew to perfection? I guess I must have, or she wouldn't have believed I was he. Do I feel like a grade-A heel for doing it? Yes. Self-flagellation and a big scarlet letter A for me. The worst part is...well, I already told you the worst part. She thinks I'm Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew, the ingrate who doesn't even seem to care that someone cold-cocked his eighty-year-old aunt. Lily cares, though. That's her name. The redhead. Lily. People call her Lily. That's what she told me.

People call me Lily. She moved to the city right after college, which makes her about twenty-seven years old, since she's lived here for five years. Originally, she's from Lansing, Illinois. Have you ever heard of Lansing, Illinois? I've heard of Lansing, Michigan, but not Lansing, Illinois. She says it's a small town where you can walk down Main Street and everyone goes, Oh, hi, Lily.

Just like that. Oh, hi, Lily.

On her bookshelves are, among a great many other books, copies of every single thing ever written by J.K Rowling. Lily has a theory that for every century, there's a writer who sums up the popular culture of the Time, and for the nineteenth century, it was Dickens, and for the twentieth, it was J.K Rowling. She says it has yet to be determined who is going to be the voice of the twenty-first century. You know what my ex Heather (you remember Heather, don't you, Sirius? She's the one you and Spica referred to as the Mouth Breather?) Had on her bookshelves, Sirius? The complete works of Kierkegaard. She'd never read Kierkegaard, of course, but the book covers matched the color of her sofa cushions. That's what she saw me as. Heather, I mean. A six foot two checkbook that could pay off her decorating bill. Remind me again why Mim was so upset when Heather and I broke it off?

Oh, and when I got there, she offered me beer. Lily, not Heather.

Not seltzer. Not wine. Not Glenfiddich on the rocks, or a Cosmo. Beer. She said she had two kinds: Light, and root. I had root. So did she. She showed me where Peter's aunt keeps the dog and cat food. She told me where to buy more, in case I ran out. She told me what Snuffles' favorite walks were. She showed me how lure a cat named, and I kid you not, Crookshanks, out from underneath the bed. She asked me about my work for the Save the Children fund. She asked me about my trip to Ethiopia. She asked me if I'd been to visit my aunt in the hospital, and if it had upset me very much, seeing her with all those tubs coming out of her. She patted me on the arm and told me not to worry, that if anyone could come out of a coma, it was my aunt

Helen. And I stood there and grinned like an idiot and pretended I was Peter Pettigrew.

Anyway, I'm moving in. To Helen Pettigrew's apartment. So if you need to call me, the number's 212-555-8972. Only don't call. Loud ringing noises, I've discovered, upset Crookshanks .Gotta go.

James

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Who are you?

And what have you done with my brother? He used to be a rational human being, until he started pretending to be Peter Pettigrew and met this Lily person.

ARE YOU INSANE? You can't move into that woman's apartment. What is wrong with you? GET OUT NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN.

Sirius

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: I think it's sweet

Hi, James. It's Spica, your sister-in-law. Sirius let me read your last email. I hope you don't mind. I also hope you don't listen to him. I think what you are doing is very sweet, helping out that poor girl next door with the old lady's pets. Sirius is trying to tell me that

you aren't doing it to be nice, and something about red hair, but I am not listening to him. He has a very sick mind. He told me just the other day that the music on my pregnancy exercise video sounds like the music from a porno! When has he ever watched porn, is what I would like to know. Anyway, I'm just saying, don't you feel bad about pretending to be this Peter person. It's for a greater good. And why don't you ask the little redhead over for dinner on Sunday

night? I'll make sure I tell the girls to call you Peter. They'll think it's fun, I'm sure. Like a game! Well, that's all for now. Hope to see you soon.

Your loving sister-in-law,

Spica

* * *

To: Rufus Scrimgeour (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Contact

Please note that for the next several weeks, I will be available only by cell phone. Do not leave messages for me on my home phone. I can always be reached by email, either at this address, or my new one, ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com.

Thanks

James Potter

Senior Crime Correspondent

The NY Chronicle

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

Subject: For Spica

Dear Spica,

I'd just like to thank you for being so understanding about my current situation. You see, my brother, your husband, has a tendency to take a very cynical view of everything. Don't ask me how he got this way, since Sirius has always been the lucky one: he's the one who got the head for business, while all I got was, if you'll excuse the cliche, the body for sin. He was also lucky enough to get you, Spica. I guess it's easy for a guy who's got such a gem for a wife to sit back and criticize the rest of us poor slobs, who can't even find a geode out there, let alone a jewel. I guess Sirius doesn't remember how hard it was for him to meet a girl who was actually attracted to him, and not the Potter family fortune. Apparently, Sirius doesn't remember Michelle. Be sure to ask him about Michelle, Spica. Or Fiona, for that matter. Or Monica, Karen, Louise, Cathy, or Alyson. Go on, ask him. I'd be curious to see what he has to say about any of them. What Sirius doesn't seem to realize is that he has already found the best girl in the world.

He forgets that some of us losers are still out there looking.

So tell your husband to cut me a little slack, will you, Spica?

And thanks for the invitation, but if it's all right with you, I'll skip dinner this Sunday.

Love,

James

PS Write back to me at my new address, listed above. I'm not sure whether it works yet.

* * *

To: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: Your new email address

James:

LeviOsa? Are you insane? Have you lost your mind? THAT's the address you chose as your redhead safe account? You might be surprised to know that most girls aren't really into Harry Potter, Jamsie. They like the Hunger Games. Female power and all that. And stop writing to my wife. All I've heard from her all day is Who's Alyson? Who's Michelle? Next Time I see you, Jamsie, you are a dead man.

Sirius

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

Subject: Harry Potter

You're wrong. Most girls prefer Harry Potter to The Hunger Games. I just took an office poll, and Harry Potter won over The Hunger Games by a margin of nearly five to one-although the girl from the mailroom doesn't like either of them, so her vote doesn't count.

Besides, I looked at Lily's books when she was in the kitchen getting the root beer, and I didn't see a single book from the Hunger Games series. You know nothing about women.

James

* * *

To: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: You know nothing about women

And you do?

* * *

To: Sergeant Kingsley Shacklebolt KingShacklebolt(a)eightyninthprecinct . nyc . org

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Helen Pettigrew

Reese-

I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need a look at anything you've got on Helen Pettigrew, 12-17 West 82nd, Apt. 15A. She was a B &amp; E with, I believe, an assault-a pretty serious one, since she's been in the ICU ever since, comatose.

I appreciate it, and no, it's not for a story, so don't worry about your CO.

James Potter

Senior Crime Correspondent

The New York Chronicle

* * *

To: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

From: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

Subject: Helen Pettigrew

Don't worry. Everything went fine. I safely evaded Ms. Evans's queries about my work for the Save the Children Fund. Nice one, by the way. I suppose by children you mean those 18-year-old gum-chewing sticks you spend your days photographing in fashions only 48-year-old divorcees can afford?

You really are a bastard, you know.

J

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Peter Pettigrew photoguy(a)stopthepresses . com

Subject: Lighten up

God, I forgot what a stick in the mud you could be. No wonder you haven't had a girlfriend in so long. What was wrong with the last one? Oh, yeah, I remember: the Kierkegaarde collection that matched the sofa. Dude, you need to chill. Who cares what books a woman's got on her shelves? It's what she's like between the sheets that matters,

heh heh heh.

Peter

* * *

To: James Potter (a)thehogwartschronicle . com

From: Sergeant Kingsley Shacklebolt KingShacklebolt(a) .org

Subject: Helen Pettigrew

Potter-

File's on its way. Or should I say some copies of the file that were accidentally made while the CO was at lunch. If any of this shows up in your paper, Potter, you can kiss that Mustang of yours good bye. Consider it impounded.

Brief summation of incident involving Helen Pettigrew:

Call came in at approximately 8:50AM, reporting unconscious female in her home. We had a unit in the park nearby. They arrived on the scene at approximately 8:55AM.

Found victim being given first aid by woman purporting to be neighbor. Later confirmed woman as one Lily Evans, living next door in Apt 15B.

Victim approximately eighty-year-old woman. When originally found, was facedown on living room carpet. Witness claims in her statement that she turned the woman to check for heartbeat, respiratory distress, etc. Victim breathing with weak pulse when EMS arrived at 9:02AM. No sign of break-in or illegal entrance to home. Outside lock not tampered with. Door unlocked, according to neighbor.

According to doctors, victim was struck on the back of the head with blunt object, possibly small-caliber pistol. Assault occurred approximately twelve hours before discovery of victim.

Questions put to doormen and neighbors revealed that:

a) No one called upon Apt. 15A the night previous to the discovery of the victim.

b) No one heard any sort of disturbance at or around 9PM that evening.

One added note: there were a number of the victim's clothing thrown across her bed, as if previous to accident, victim had been trying to decide what to wear. However, victim, when found, was in nightclothes, including hair curlers, etc.

A reporter might try to make something out of the fact that this could be construed as another attack by the transvestite killer. There is one major difference, however: the transvestite killer actually kills his victims, and tends to stick around to make sure they are really dead.

Additionally, the transvestite killer's victims have all been in their 20s, 30s, and 40s.

Mrs. Pettigrew, though apparently spry for her age, was unlikely to be mistaken for a younger woman. Well, that's it. We got nothing. Of course, if the old lady croaks, that'll change things. Then the thing shifts to a homicide, and we'll get the dicks in and dust for prints, etc. But unless that happens, this is being treated as an interrupted robbery.

That's all I can think of. Good luck, and tell your colleagues to knock it off already on the Street Crime Unit. Yeah, some of them are scumbags, but most of them are good guys.

Kingsley

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: He didn't mean it

Milly, you know he didn't mean it. At least not the way you think he did. All Remus was saying is that if you're going to sit around and complain about your weight so much, why not do something about it and join a gym? He never said you were fat. All right? I was there. HE DID NOT SAY YOU'RE FAT. Now are you seriously going to tell me you didn't you have fun at the party? And Remus' uncle Casper is a doll. That toast he gave the two of you...it was so sweet! I swear, Milly, sometimes I'm so jealous of you I could burst. I would give anything to find a guy with an uncle Casper who'd throw me a pool party

and call me a Botticelli Venus. And you did NOT look fat in that suit. My God, it had enough Gortex in it to keep Marlon Brando's flab in check. Your tiny belly didn't stand a chance. So would you snap out of it and act like an adult? If you're good, I'll let you come over and spy on Peter Pettigrew with me...Oooh, look, tonight he's got on a muscle T...

Lily

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: My butt

You are lying. About the muscle T and about what Remus meant. You know good and well he meant that he's sick of looking at my size sixteen rear end. I am sick and tired of looking at my size sixteen rear end. And I fully intend to join a gym. I just don't need Remus suggesting it. It's his fault I'm this size, you know. I was a size

twelve until he came along and started making me his trademark pappardella alla Toscana with four cheeses and a Marsala wine sauce every night. Oh, baby, come on, just try a taste, you've never had anything like it. Ha! And what about his rigatoni alla vodka? Vodka my ass. That's a cream sauce, and nobody can tell me any different. And as for being called a Botticelli Venus, believe me, there are better things to be called. Now what's the dog guy really wearing?

M :-/

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: What he's wearing

What do you care what he's got on? You're engaged. But if you insist...

Let me see, he is laying (or is it lying? No wonder they stuck me on Page Ten) on the bed in jeans and a T-shirt (sorry, no muscle T-you're right, I was lying to see if you were paying attention). He has his laptop out again. Snuffles is there beside him. Snuffles is looking disgustingly happy, I must say. That dog never looked that happy when I was over there.

Maybe- Oh my God! No wonder that dog is happy! He's feeding him Alpo-on the bed! That dog is getting Alpo all over Mrs. Pettigrew's guest room's chenille bedspread! What is wrong with this man? Doesn't he realize chenille has to be dry-cleaned?

This is so pathetic. This is so pathetic, Milly. I mean, the pathos of it all just suddenly came washing over me. I am sitting here in my apartment, recording the guy next door's activities for my best friend, who is engaged. Milly, you are getting married! And what am I doing? Sitting here at home in my sweats emailing my girlfriend.

I AM PATHETIC! I am worse than pathetic, I am- OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, Milly! He just saw me.

I'm not kidding. He just waved! I am so embarrassed. I am going to die. I am going to-

Oh my God, he's opening the window. He's opening the window. He's saying something to me.

I'll get back to you.

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: WRITE BACK!

If you don't write me back tonight, I swear I am calling the cops. I don't care if I'm just like your mother. You don't know anything about this guy, except that his crazy aunt lives next door to you and he has a naked picture of himself up in the Whitney. Which I think you and I need to take a little field trip on Monday to see, by the way.

WRITE BACK TO ME- or the boys from the 87th Precinct will be paying you another visit.

Milly

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Remus Lupin foodie(a)fresche . com

Subject: Cut it out

I've been trying to get through to you for the past two hours, but your phone's been busy. I can only assume that either it's off the hook because you don't want to talk to me, or you are yakking it up on-line with Lily. If it is the latter, go off line and call me at the restaurant. If it is the former, stop being such a spaz.

All I said was if you're that freaked out about this whole wedding dress thing, get a personal trainer, or something. I mean, jeez, Milly, you're driving me crazy with this whole size twelve crap. Who CARES what size you are? *I* don't care. I love you exactly the way you are. And I don't give a rat's ass how many of your sisters have worn that stupid dress of your mother's. I hate that dress anyway. It's ugly. Just go out and buy a new dress, one that fits you the way you are NOW. You'll feel better in it and it will look better on you. Your mother will understand, and who cares what your sisters think? Screw your sisters, anyway. I have to go. Table 7 just sent back their salmon because it was undercooked.

See what you made me do?

R

* * *

To: Remus Lupin foodie(a)fresche . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Excuse me...

but I do not appreciate your attitude towards my sisters. I happen to like my sisters. What if I said screw your brothers? What if I said screw your uncle Casper? How would you like that, huh? It's all very well for you to talk. All you have to do is throw on some rented tuxedo. *I* on the other hand have to be radiant. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? God, it's so easy to be a man.

Milly

* * *

To: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: No big deal

He just couldn't figure out how to work his aunt's electric can opener. He bought Crookshanks some actual tuna in order to lure him out from under the bed. It didn't work, of course. I suggested next Time he buy tuna in water rather than olive oil. I don't know that cats like olive oil so much. Anyway, while I was there, he asked which was the best place in the neighborhood to order Chinese from. So I told him, and then he asked if I'd had dinner, and I said no, so he asked if I wanted to order with him, and so I said yes, and we had barbecued spare ribs, cold sesame noodles, moo shu pork, and chicken with broccoli at Mrs. Pettigrew's kitchen table. And I know what you are going to say now, and no, it was not a date, Milly.

For God's sake, it was only Chinese food. In his aunt's kitchen. With Snuffles sitting there, waiting for one of us to drop something so he could vacuum it up in his jowls.

And no, he didn't make a pass at me. Peter, I mean, not Snuffles. Although I don't see how he could resist seeing as how I'm sure I was quite stunning in my It's-Saturday-Night- And-I-Don't-Have-A-Date sweats. The fact is, Cissa has to be wrong about Peter. He's no ladies' man. It was all very casual and friendly. It turns out we have a lot in common. He likes mysteries and so do I, so we talked about our favorite mysteries. You know, he is quite literary,

for a photographer. I mean, compared to some of the guys in the art department at work. Can you picture Larry conversing knowingly about Edgar Allan Poe? I don't think so. Oh, God, a horrible thought just occurred to me: what if all that stuff Cissa said about Peter is true, and he IS a ladies' man? What does that mean, seeing as how he didn't make a pass at me? It can only mean one thing!

Oh, God, I'm hideous!

Lily

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Go take a Midol...

would you, please? You are not hideous. I'm sure all those things Cissa said about Peter Pettigrew aren't true. I mean, it's CISSA, for God's sake. She used to have YOUR job.

Only unlike you, she wasn't exactly scrupulous about what she reported. For instance, I sincerely doubt she'd have felt your moral outrage over what Matt Damon did to Winona.

I'm sure he's a very nice guy, just like you said.

Milly :-)

* * *

To: Cissa Black (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: Melissa (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

Subject: Peter Pettigrew

All right. Spill it. What's the truth about this guy? Because he has basically moved in next door to Lily and she's clearly smitten, despite her protests to the contrary. Is he really as bad as you say, or are you exaggerating, as usual? And remember: I am the head food critic at the paper. I can make sure you never get into Nobu again with a single phone call, so don't mess with me, Cissa.

Milly

* * *

To: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: So?

You're not speaking to me now, or what? All I said was that what you don't know about women would fill the Grand Canyon. What are you so touchy about all of a sudden?

Sirius

PS Spica wants to know if you've asked the redhead out yet.

* * *

To: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

From: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

Subject: So?

I am not being touchy. What do you want from me? Not all of us have a personal assistant, a driver, an au pair, a housekeeper, a gardener, a team of pool maintenance workers, a tennis instructor, a nutritionist, and a job our grandfather handed to us to on a silver platter, you know. I'm just busy, all right? My God, I've got a full Time job and a

Great Dane I have to walk four Times a day.

James

PS Tell Spica I'm working on it.

* * *

To: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

From: Sirius Potter (a)pottercapital . com

Subject: You ought to seek professional help

Listen, you psychotic freak: where is this hostility coming from? You know, you could have a job in your grandfather's office if you wanted one. Ditto a personal assistant. I don't know about a team of pool maintenance workers, as, living in the city, you don't have a pool. But everything I've got you could easily have if you would just give up this absurd quest you've embarked on to prove you can get along without Mim's money.

I'll tell you the one thing you really need that you don't have is a psychiatrist, buddy, because you seem to be in grave danger of forgetting something:

You do not have to walk that damn dog four Times a day. Why? Because you are not Peter Pettigrew. Got it? YOU ARE NOT PETER PETTIGREW, no matter what you're telling that poor girl.

Now get over yourself.

PS Mim wants to know if you are going to the dedication of that new wing we've donated to Sloan-Kettering. If you are, she requests that you wear a tie for a change.

* * *

To: Lily Evans (a)thehogwartsjournal . com

From: ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com

Subject: Hi

It's me. Peter Pettigrew, I mean. I'm ItsLeviOsa(a)freemail . com. That's a reference to

Harry Potter. That was the spell Ron said wrong in the first movie. In case you didn't know. How are you? I hope you didn't actually try those leftover cold sesame noodles yesterday. My share congealed overnight into something resembling stucco.

Look, I think some of your dry cleaning got delivered to my aunt's apartment last night instead of yours. At least, I don't think my aunt owns any leopard blouses from Madam Malkins-or at least, if she does, she unfortunately hasn't had much opportunity to wear them lately-so it must be yours, right? Maybe we could meet later for a dry cleaning exchange. Oh, and I noticed there's a digitally-restored re-release of Shadow of a Doubt playing tomorrow night at Film Forum. I know you said that was your favorite Hitchcock film. I thought maybe we could catch a seven o'clock showing, if you don't have other plans, then maybe grab something to eat later-preferably not Chinese food. Let me know.

Peter Pettigrew

PS I've been meaning to tell you, my friends call me James. It's a college thing that sort of stuck.


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